


The Countdown

by startrekto221B



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 20:25:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,242
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3424430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/startrekto221B/pseuds/startrekto221B
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Sherlock learns that he's dying of an incurable disease he starts a countdown timer for his last 60 days on Earth. <br/>***<br/>He would miss this. The man sitting next to him in the jumper, the man who thought he was amazing, brilliant and fantastic. The man who had shot someone to protect him. His friend. Or something more? A voice in his head said slyly. <br/>“Shut up,” Sherlock told it.<br/>“What? I didn’t say anything,” John glanced over.<br/>“You were thinking too loud,” Sherlock replied automatically.<br/>“Oh,” John said, again not surprised, “Well if you can hear my thoughts I’m not apologizing for this next one,”<br/>Sherlock laughed. Then he laughed a second time. Because it finally hit him that he was actually dying. Just when he realized what he might want to live for. <br/>***</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Countdown Begins

_How will you notify Dr. Watson of the outcome of your recent doctor’s appointment? –MH_

_I don’t intend to. –SH_

_He has a right to know. –MH_

_I have a right to keep it from him. –SH_

Sherlock opened the Clock application on his phone, swiped at it until it reached the countdown timer feature and entered his time in hours, minutes and seconds. 1440: 00: 00. He mentally noted how stupid it was that it didn’t have the option to input the time in days. If he wanted to he could take a few hours, learn how to program in the IOS operating system, write his own application that did, and then enter his time. But every second was precious to him now; there was no time to waste. His hand shook just a little as he pressed a cold finger to the large green button that read ‘Start’. It was almost amusing. He never bothered to note the time for anything else. Sure he regularly calculated the elapsed time whenever people did things, using the data to deduce various things about them: fitness level, reading comprehension, and the like. But he never bothered with the time to show up early for appointments, for dates, not that he had any, but even if he did he was probably the kind of person that would be so absorbed in his own work that he would show up late. That was in fact exactly how John had described him once. Not resourceful. Not enigmatic. But simply ‘late’. Well John, he laughed bitterly to himself; here’s one date I won’t be late for. And what a dismal date it would be. A date with death.

John would find such a countdown ridiculous. But really speaking it was all for him. Sherlock himself was less than thrilled that he would not be around for much longer. So far he had managed to sweep any unresolved feelings about it under the rug and was operating on rational autopilot, but he was reasonably sure that if the logic stopped there would be some kind of breakdown. Even he had limits. So he had to make sure the logic didn’t stop. Because these 1440 hours were just barely enough time to make sure John was okay. That he would be okay when Sherlock was gone. At an earlier time upon receiving such a diagnosis Sherlock would have gone into frenzy, composing like mad, solving the most difficult puzzles he could get his hands on, he might have even taken one of Mycroft’s cases in the time he had left. Now though he felt a strange sense of responsibility. The knowledge that there was someone out there who would actually feel his absence, miss him, was affecting him. He wasn’t sure what he would do to make sure John would be okay. But he had to do something. Mycroft would of course, miss him too, in his own way, but it wasn’t really the same. He wasn’t exactly sure why.

_You won’t be able to keep up the façade for long. –MH_

_First three weeks should be fine, as long as you don’t let it slip. –SH_

_I don’t plan to ruin your little charade until it becomes absolutely necessary. –MH_

_Go away. –SH_

His head ached. He had managed to come up to the flat and stow all his various painkilling medications in the drawers of his room. But he couldn’t grab one just now. He heard John coming up the stairs.

“Evening, John,” Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice as even and non-suspicious as possible, “How was work?”

“Sherlock you never ask me about my work, why are you clutching your head?” John asked concerned.

“Headache, told Lestrade I can’t possibly come help him today, he’ll have to blunder around in the dark by himself,” Sherlock explained.

“Oh, I suppose we could stay in,” John reasoned, “Order takeout. Chinese sound okay with you?”

“Yes,” Sherlock said shortly, the pain was blinding.

John looked at him quizzically, wanting to ask him something more, but then looked away and grabbed the phone. Sherlock took this opportunity to dash to his room. He needed something to dull the throbbing. Oh god.

John seemed surprised when Sherlock asked him to pick something he liked to watch on television. John didn’t notice when instead of watching the movie Sherlock watched John. Less than 1440 hours left just the two of us, Sherlock felt like saying. This is it.

Sherlock really didn’t keep up with pop culture enough to understand why any of the references in the show were funny. But he timed his own laughter pretty well with John’s to compensate, and thought instead about how a previous Sherlock would have found this so utterly wasteful. Less than 1440 hours left and sitting on the sofa watching television. What a waste. Such a waste. But that Sherlock had nothing, Sherlock thought. Nothing to miss.

He did though, he realized with a jolt. He would miss this. The man sitting next to him in the jumper, the man who thought he was amazing, brilliant and fantastic. The man who had shot someone to protect him. His friend. _Or something more_? A voice in his head said slyly.

“Shut up,” Sherlock told it.

“What? I didn’t say anything,” John glanced over.

“You were thinking too loud,” Sherlock replied automatically.

“Oh,” John said, again not surprised, “Well if you can hear my thoughts I’m not apologizing for this next one,”

Sherlock laughed. Then he laughed a second time. Because it finally hit him that he was actually dying. Just when he realized what he might want to live for.

***

1388: 40:52

_You still haven’t told him. –MH_

_Bugger off. –SH_

John had a date tonight, Sherlock deduced idly. Kathleen. She was quite pretty. Had Sherlock not been dying he might have tried to crash their little get together at the restaurant he knew John was taking her. But since he was he did think it best that John move on. That and a sudden lethargy had taken over as a consequence of the pills he was taking that really made it difficult for him to move off the sofa.

“You’re not taking cases, you’re not smoking,” John said confusedly, “Sherlock, what’s going on?”

“Mid-life crisis,” Sherlock said.

“You’re only thirty-two, you can’t have a mid-life crisis, you’re way too young,”

“Not if I die at sixty-four,” Sherlock retorted.

“That’s ridiculous, you’re not going to die at sixty-four, unless of course I finally kill you because you’re sixty-four and there are still fingers in the microwave,” John snapped.

“You won’t still be living here when I’m sixty-four,” Sherlock pointed out.

John paused for a second, “You never know. You might kick me out if I bore you.”

“You could never bore me.”

***

1316: 24:31

He had finally been in out of pain long enough to take a case. He really hated his condition for making it so hard for him to use his mind when his body refused to function. He hated it almost as much as he hated it for killing him. But he did have a few weeks left he thought when he could continue taking cases. Then the monotony would really set in. A previous Sherlock at that point would have just overdosed and ended it. But that was before John. Even without the cases in the end he could be with John. And he planned to use every last minute. Every last, exquisitely painful second.

But he knew John enjoyed the cases nearly as much as he did, what if when the cases ended John was bored too?

 _He doesn’t care for you_ , the voice said. _He’ll leave you_ , it said snidely. 

“No he won’t,” Sherlock told it.

“Sherlock who are you talking to?” John asked curiously.

“The murderer, he won’t get the death penalty, given my um-knowledge of British law and current public opinion,” Sherlock improvised.

“Right,” John said, “That was amazing today in the park, how did you know the pool was _that_ deep? The secret passage?”

“I’ve already explained the deduction to you,” Sherlock said.

“No I know, I know, it’s just unreal sometimes,” John laughed, “I’ve tried you know.”

“Tried what?”

“Deduction,”

“Right, let’s see you try,” Sherlock said.

“That’s totally unfair,”

“Come on, we’ll do an easy one,”

“Easy? Fine,”

“Deduce me,”

“What? No. I’ve been with you all day.”

“Hence easy,” Sherlock explained.

“Okay. Alright. You’ve been zoning out randomly today for no apparent reason. Sometimes you respond to someone that isn’t there and then make up for it by thinking of something on the spot. You think you’re covering it up fine and to most people you are but not to me. Your hand shakes sometimes and you’re having these weird headaches and I’ve never known you to nap this much.”

Sherlock hated to admit it, but he was impressed, “Anything else? And the conclusion from all these observations?”

“You’ve been ill lately. You’re taking medication for it. I’ve seen you. It’s nothing too serious though is it? You’re okay right?”

“I’m perfectly fine,” Sherlock lied.

“And there was one other thing,” John stared to say, “Never mind though.”

“No please,”

“Your eyes,” John said, “Sometimes. When you look at me. They dilate. Not sure what that means.”

“Nothing at all,” Sherlock lied again, “It means nothing at all.”

***

1250: 22: 11

John had been on a second date with Kathleen. Really hit it off, according to him. Sherlock was happy on one level. _Don’t you wish it was you?_ That annoying voice again.

“Of course not,” Sherlock snapped.

“Sherlock, you’re doing it again,” John said nonchalantly.

“Sorry about that,”

“Don’t be sorry, what’s it saying,”

“What’s what saying, nothing’s saying anything, don’t be an idiot,”

John looked at him sternly, “Sherlock,”

“Fine, I may be marginally at war with myself,”

“That’s a battle I wouldn’t want to be in,”

“I like Kathleen,” Sherlock said all of a sudden.

“What?” John asked.

“She’s nice, I think you should marry her,”

“We’ve been on two dates,”

“Even so,”

“What’s going on with you recently?”

“You do eventually want to get married don’t you? I always assumed.”

“Well yeah eventually, but there’s no rush,”

“You’re not. Lonely, then.”

“How could I be lonely? I live with the world’s only consulting detective.”

***

1106: 44: 10

Now that he was dying Sherlock noticed things a lot more. He noticed that every time he fell asleep on the sofa in one of his lethargic spells when he woke up there was some sort of blanket over him. He noticed that John tasted the tea first to make sure it wasn’t too hot before giving it to Sherlock, Sherlock was a lot more sensitive to cold and heat now. He noticed a lot of things about John actually, things he was surprised he had missed before.

John’s hands, he noticed, probably at an inappropriate time as they were holding a gun up to the head of a man three times his size, were very strong. His grip, he noticed, was incredibly firm.

“Impeccable timing,” Sherlock remarked, he had been close to meeting his date with death sooner than intended, “This is the aforementioned Mr. Wallins, not escaped to Nicaragua after all,”

John for his part was wondering how Sherlock could keep talking while in a headlock, “We’ll discuss this later,”

Sherlock marveled at just how quickly John was able to flip over Mr. Wallins who-was-not-in-Nicaragua, he marveled at just how quickly John was able to knock him out, and then at just how quickly John’s concern for Sherlock’s wellbeing was replaced with sudden, anger, no not anger, Sherlock mentally corrected, rage.

“You didn’t even leave a note!” John exclaimed.

“Yes, that was a misstep,” Sherlock admitted.

“A misstep? You could be dead,” John snapped.

“I don’t see how it matters, considering I am dying anyway,” Sherlock retorted bitterly.

“What?”

“I mean. We’re all dying. Every second of every day,” Sherlock covered.

“I can’t believe you don’t understand,”

“What don’t I understand? I understand everything, nearly everything, if you don’t count astronomy, which I still consider to be mostly irrelevant—“

“No you don’t understand what it would be,” John paused, and took a breath, “If you died…”

Sherlock’s heart skipped a beat, “The world would keep turning, the world wouldn’t stop because I died,”

“Well mine would,”

***

1012:01:01

Kathleen was coming over today. John had told him to be on his best behavior. And he would be. _Try not to ruin it would you?_ The voice mocked him.

“He should be happy,” he said.

John had heard it, but didn’t bother to reply.

He should be happy, Sherlock realized. Kathleen should make him happy. She should know just how wonderful John is. So when he had her alone, he decided to tell her.

“John is a decorated military veteran,” he said pointedly.

“I know,” she smiled, such white teeth Sherlock observed, she really was perfect for John, “I really respect that.”

“He’s also a doctor,” Sherlock added.

“Oh I get it, he put you up to this didn’t he?” she laughed.

“Oh no,” Sherlock cursed to himself, he had messed it up, “No listen. John would never do that. He would never try to unfairly gain an advantage over someone. He’s unfailing loyal. He’s not as clever as me, few people are, in fact he’s sometimes an idiot, but he means well. But he is smart. It takes him some time to really open up with people, I’ve noticed. He doesn’t have too many close friends but the ones he does he’ll do almost anything for. I should know. He once shot a man to save my life.”

She put a hand on his, and her eyes were suddenly full of strange kind of concern, “Sherlock, why are you telling me this?”

“It is imperative you know all the facts. So you can come to the inevitable conclusion.”

“Which is…”

“Love John,”

Kathleen smiled, and Sherlock could smell her lavender perfume, “I understand Sherlock, I do. Thank you.”

 _There you’ve done it, now you have no chance,_ the voice says.

“He wasn’t mine to lose,” Sherlock says as he watches John walk her down the stairs, they’re down there a while.

 _Oh well, you’re dead anyway_.

***

988: 02: 04

“Sherlock,” John snapped his fingers to get his attention.

“Yes, what?”

“I just wanted to um, tell you, things aren’t going to work out with Kathleen,”

“Why not?” Sherlock asked, fairly shocked.

“We talked and we decided it might not be the best thing to do right now, for us,” John said.

“Oh,” Sherlock replied, “Right well. I guess then tonight it’s just us,”

John smiled, and in his eyes Sherlock saw something gentler, “Yeah I guess it is.”

_Yesterday when Kathleen left_

“What were you two chatting about?” John asked as he helped Kathleen into her coat.

“John I think you should know,” she said, her voice low.

“Know what?”

“I think he’s in love with you,”

“No, he’s not, you don’t know him, he wouldn’t be,” John brushed it off.

“He told me, all this stuff about you, John I’m telling you, he’s in love with you, he was so adorable about it too, he wanted me to be with you because he thought it would make you happy,” Kathleen laughed, “John I have to know. Were you two ever…?”

“No,” John said shortly, “I mean everyone always assumes. But we’ve just been really good friends. I’d say he’s my best friend.”

“I think he wants to be more, John I’m being honest, and the way he was talking about you, most of us aren’t lucky enough to have someone that’s that crazy about you,” Kathleen said earnestly.

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you’re very lucky, you have something, and I don’t want to get in the middle of it,”

“He doesn’t see people that way,”

“Then you’re even luckier, it’s only you,”

***

940: 34: 12

When Sherlock dreamed once he saw it. The hooded figure. The spectre of death. He had never dreamed of such things before considering it beneath him. But he woke up sweating. Still on the sofa, where he had fallen asleep last night and John had tossed a blanket over him. John was getting suspicious of this new illness, he could tell. He had brushed off questions several times, but John still looked at him, looked into his eyes like he saw a whole different world inside them.

“Bad dream?” John asked cautiously, he was up too, why would he be up?

“You couldn’t sleep either,” Sherlock said, “That’s curious.”

“Not really. When two people live together don’t they fall into similar sleeping and eating patterns?” John asked.

“That’s true, but that’s not why you’re up, you had a dream too, you dreamt of the war,” Sherlock deduced.

“No,”

“What? No of course you did,”

“I didn’t,”

“What did you dream about?”

“It’s stupid,”

“Tell me,”

“The spectre of death, stealing you,”

***

924: 04: 43

 _You love him don’t you?_ the voice said mockingly.

“I don’t,” Sherlock lied to the silent room.

 _You want him, you’re so pitiful, you crave him,_ it repeated.

“No,”

It was such a lie. Sherlock wanted to hold John’s hand before he died. He wanted to kiss John before he died. But he knew. That was unfair. First of all, John didn’t love him. Second of all, even if he did he couldn’t force John to lose something that he loved. The logic was sound. Do nothing. Act natural. Say nothing. The logic was sound. But Sherlock still wanted.

_It’s been three weeks. Sherlock, you must tell him. –MH_

_No. I don’t want him to pity me. –SH_

_You’re being a child. You owe it to him. –MH_

_I know. –SH_

***

They spent more time together now that Sherlock was dying. Not because John had figured it out. But because the cases had become tremendous exertion, and he couldn’t take as many. So they spent the time at home instead. John introduced him to board games. John introduced him to card games. He even got John to tell him about the war.

 _You feel special don’t you? Because he spends all that time with you?_ the voice asked.

“We’re friends,” Sherlock explained.

“Of course we are,” John replied, “You’re listening to it again aren’t you?”

“No,” Sherlock lied, lying was becoming so habitual nowadays.

“In fact you’re my best friend,” John said.

“I am?”

“Yeah, or as you would say ‘obvious’”

 _But you want to be something more don’t you?_ the voice asked.

“I don’t,” Sherlock answered.

“Sherlock,” John reached out and put a hand on his shoulder, “You’re not okay,”

“John there’s something I must confess,” Sherlock says.

“What’s that?” John asks.

“Pupil dilation is a sign of attraction,” Sherlock sighs.

“Come on then, genius, look at mine.”


	2. Halfway There

923:56:02

Dilated. Very, very dilated. Sherlock’s pulse shot up. But John was staring at him, waiting, waiting for answer. Sherlock could not answer. So he ran. Ran to his room and locked the door, sitting with his back to it, John knew. John reciprocated. _Reciprocated? Such a cold term?_ The voice asked.

“I am cold,” he said to the silent room.

“Sherlock? Don’t do this, I’m sorry, for springing it on you like that,” John pointed out, sitting against the other side of the door.

“Sherlock, please, you can’t stay in there forever,” John continued.

“Actually there is an adequate supply of oxygen, I could easily stay in for a few hours, wait for you to tire of me, and then exit,” Sherlock reasoned, his heart racing.

“Good luck with that, I can outlast you, I was a soldier remember, I know how to hold a siege, and since I have access to the kitchen, you don’t stand a chance,” John retorted.

“How will that go down in history, the siege of 221B?” Sherlock laughed.

 _He doesn’t really love you,_ the voice said. _I know he doesn’t_ , it repeated. _Who would love you?_ It asked.

“Shut up,” Sherlock told it.

“I don’t know what it’s telling you, this rogue part of yourself that you’re having conversations with,” John began, “But I think you should stop listening to it and start listening to me.”

“That’s rich, why the hell should I listen to you?”

“It’s given you nothing but pain in the past few weeks. Whereas I’ve given you—“

“Pure unadulterated happiness,” Sherlock realized, and for once the voice had no counter-argument.

“I was going to go with either companionship or a distractions from the pain,”

“Oh,” Sherlock said.

“But I like, what you said, it’s better, even,” John said.

“I do consider you quite distracting,”

“I could distract you a lot more easily if there wasn’t a door between us,”

Sherlock said nothing, but John heard the click as the door unlocked.

***

900: 07: 25

_If you entered hospice care you could have a little longer. –MH_

_I will not be parted from him. –SH_

_I relent. It’s your life. –MH_

_Actually, it’s my death. –SH_

_Don’t be dramatic. –MH_

_I’ll be what I am. –SH_

“You know you can tell me what you want,” John said.

“What? What do you mean?” Sherlock asked.

“I mean I liked the kissing last night, and I think you did too, but if you don’t, you should tell me, you seem a little on edge,” John said concernedly, “You sure you’re alright?”

“I’m perfectly fine, the headache medications have some side effects, nothing serious of course,” Sherlock replied.

 _You still lie to him?_ It asked.

“He can never know,” Sherlock whispered so John couldn’t hear.

“I wanted this, with you, for the longest time, I was such an idiot,” John laughed, “But we made it. We can be together. If that’s what you want.”

“I want.”

_Then you are such a fool._

***

844:09:22

“You can take it if you want,” John sighed.

“Take what?” Sherlock asked.

“My hand, you’ve been staring at it, you’ve been brushing yours against it, come on,” John said.

“Nonsense, I do not want to hold your hand,” Sherlock protested.

John smiled; he could play this game, “Well, I forgot my gloves at the flat. My hands are freezing,”

Sherlock laced his fingers through John’s immediately, “We can’t have that,”

***

802: 08:12

They were kissing on the sofa. They did that a lot now. It was getting difficult for Sherlock to breathe, both because he was addicted to the feeling of John’s mouth and because he was dying, but he found that he really didn’t care. John was running his hands through Sherlock’s hair, kissing him like Sherlock had never, ever been kissed before. When suddenly he drew back.

“You’re sweating, you never sweat,” John said.

“It’s a—“

“Side effect of the medication, I’ve heard that a million times, I want to see this medication,” John demanded.

Sherlock had thought of this, had the fake pillbox ready, “See for yourself,”

John looked it over for a few minutes, “You’re really taking this. This is the strongest stuff on the legal market. It was almost not approved for sale by the government.”

“I need it,” Sherlock explained, “My brain. You know it’s like no other. It um. Overloads itself.”

John considered him for a moment, then seemed to think he wasn’t about to get more answers from Sherlock, and let the matter temporarily slide, “This isn’t over. But you look exhausted. Let’s go to bed.”

“You mean, separately to bed, to our own bedrooms, separately,” Sherlock said cautiously.

Like the hand holding, John saw, this was something he would have to start himself, “I did mean that originally. But…” he thought desperately, “My bedroom is freezing.”

“I can turn up the thermostat, there’s some extra blankets in my bedroom, we could take them up and—“

“You absolute idiot,” John kissed him again, “Just come.”

“Fine fine, if you insist, I suppose I could,” Sherlock nodded, “But I am _not_ an idiot,”

“Don’t be like that,” John said mockingly, remembering what Sherlock had said to him during their first case, “Practically everyone is,”

***

790:12:14

_Now you’ve done it. –MH_

_If you still have cameras in here. We were only sleeping. We have not done ‘it’. –SH_

_That is not what I am referring to. –MH_

_What are you referring to? –SH_

_You have emotionally compromised both yourself and Dr. Watson. –MH_

_I could still live. –SH_

_It would take a miracle. You don’t believe in miracles. –MH_

_I do now. –SH_

***

720: 00: 00

The exact halfway point, Sherlock noted.

 _You’re being selfish_ , it said.

 _You have to tell him_ , it said.

 _You don’t even deserve him_ , it said.

“I know,” Sherlock shocked the voice into silence, “I know.”

***

655: 32: 41

_Now I have done it. Enjoy the footage. –SH_

_I decline to comment. –MH_

_There’s an illegal drug I found. –SH_

_What else is new. –MH_

_It could save me. –SH_

_If anything could save you, I would have found it already. –MH_

_I’m not afraid of pain. –SH_

_Your case is almost entirely unique. I have consulted all available experts. I am sorry. –MH_

_Are you? –SH_

_You mistake my bluntness for indifference. –MH_

_Ah, how touching. Then you do care. Tell me, will I leave a hole in your life? A pinprick? –SH_

_A chasm. –MH_


End file.
